Bittersweet Surrender
by Lance Robert Weeler
Summary: Slight AU. Chloe Sullivan moves to Smallville while a serial killer is at large. Can she find the killer and win Clark's heart at the same time? Probably not...


Title: Bittersweet Surrender  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own the show or any of the characters. If I did, they'd be on HBO, where you know I'd be doing naughty things with them.  
  
Summary: Just read it. A bit AU. This isn't going to be a long one.  
  
*****  
  
I stand poignantly at the hollow steps of Smallville Secondary School wondering what I did to experience so many years of mind-numbing purgatory. The brisk spring air evokes a shiver from me body as I pull my coat tighter around my still form. I glare spitefully at the surroundings - the all too common cliques huddle together in separate masses, laughing, talking and just being teenagers. Jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, punks, preppies - no matter how many schools you go to, they are always accounted for. I walk up the stairs, sigh deeply and roll my eyes with contempt before opening the doors in search of the office. If this town was half as boring as it looked, this would be a long, long tour of duty.  
  
The principal gives me the 411 on how special the school is, how they're dedicated to my education and how I'll enjoy my tenure here. I nod approvingly and smile at the appropriate times as if I give a damn. Before I know it, I'm standing outside the office, schedule in hand waiting for Chiron to take me down the River Styx with a guided tour of this hell-hole. A few students mill about and I look them over, wondering curiously which one will be my tour operator today. A peppy blonde with a smile too wide to be real catches my eye and waves. I groan inwardly as she comes toward me - her face as if ecstatic to see me. As she gets closer I realize her complexion might actually be fake - either she has her pony tail pulled back to tight, or she had gotten a bad facelift.  
  
I gasp a sigh of relief as she passes me by, only offering a polite hello as she does. Instead she strikes up a conversation with another cheery blonde by the door and I can't help but give off a slight giggle as the two chicken-heads drone on about prom committee. I'm shocked out of my dalliance by a firm hand and on my shoulder. I turn and catch my first glimpse of HIM. He stands there and time literally slows to a crawl. A montage flashes before my eyes: this tall, dark, handsome stranger smiling as a gust of wind blows gently through his hair. His mouth opens and he speaks but the words bounce off my mind as I remain in my trance, mesmerized by this vision of a Greek god.  
  
"Hello? Are you okay?"  
  
"Huh? Oh right, I'm fine," I mutter, trying to harness all my concentration to keep me from trembling like a little school girl.  
  
"Are you Chloe Sullivan? I'm Clark Kent, and I'm going to be showing you around today," he says, his pearly teeth gleaming. He extends his hand and I take it rather awkwardly as he gestures with his other down the hall. "Shall we?"  
  
I nod and smile, making sure to stay a foot behind to give myself an opportunity to peruse the goods. My mouth waters on its own accord. He goes over the basics, the library, the cafeteria, the labs, the gym, etc. I nod along as he points them out to me when in actually I'm staring at his large well-toned arms and massive chest which threatens to burst out of his plaid shirt. With his back turned I come up to him and take a discrete sniff. Strangely enough he smells of Old Spice, hay, and apple pie. There is definitely more to Clark Kent that meets the eye.  
  
"And this is the Torch, the school paper," he says, opening the door and leading me inside.  
  
"I know," I gleam back at him with my own set of beautiful chompers. "I'm the new editor. I was surprised to find out the position was open when I registered here."  
  
"Really? I guess we'll be seeing more of me then. I'll be working under you."  
  
A stunned look comes over me as my mind selectively removes the word 'working.' 'I'll be under you,' I hear instead. I've got it bad. I bite my lip. We make eye contact for just an instant, but the moment is interrupted.  
  
"Hi Clark!" exclaims a sweet feminine voice from behind.  
  
I spin around hastily looking to shoot daggers at whoever ruined our moment.  
  
"Hey Lana. Lana, this is Chloe, our new editor-in-chief."  
  
"Welcome to Smallville high," she says with a grin.  
  
I hate to admit it but she is a bombshell - a worthy counterpart to Clark Kent. Long, dark, flowing hair with just the right amount of bounce. A slim figure, slender waist, smooth skin, flawless complexion. Her bright smile and large hazel eyes denote innocence, the exact opposite of what I see in the mirror every morning. Cynicism hasn't yet claimed this one... I am envious of that more than anything.  
  
"Thanks," I mutter under my breath, taking my attention back to Clark.  
  
Unfortunately for me, he's staring right back at her. They make clumsy idle chit-chat all the while ignoring me as I mentally smack myself on the head. Their furtive smiles, the way she's playing with her hair - they have some kind of game going. I can see the affection in their eyes and the desire in their hearts but they stand well away from one another, both too scared to make that final step. Another damned 'will they, won't they' couple. I sigh a little too loudly, accidentally reasserting of my presence. They bring their attention back, suddenly remembering about the creaky third wheel standing there the whole time trying not to vomit during their prolonged and blatantly obvious charade.  
  
"Um, so Chloe, how do you like the school so far?" Lana asks politely. She sounds forced.  
  
"It looks like a nice place," I say, giving what must have been the hundredth fake smile of the day. "Anyways, what happened to the last editor? Move away?"  
  
They glance at each other uncomfortably before she moves to answer.  
  
"She was murdered, Chloe. A couple of weeks ago at a movie theatre."  
  
"Murdered?"  
  
"Smallville isn't you're average small town, Chloe. A lot of bad and weird things happen around here," Clark interjects.  
  
The reporter in me gleams as my eyes widen and my attention peaks. Awesome! Not someone being murdered of course... though I did land the job because of it. It's just incredible there is something of interest going on in this tiny town I thought initially to be Dullsville.  
  
"I'll tell you more later, but we should really finish this tour."  
  
"Um, okay. It was nice meeting you Chloe. Have fun you guys," Lana exclaims, waving.  
  
I return the wave and we exit. As we round the corner I look back and I swear I see Lana giving me an icy glare. Did I imagine it? I shrug it off.  
  
*****  
  
This little town is a breath of fresh air. Though it can be boring at times, it has a simple, friendly charm to it. Two weeks in, and I've definitely found my groove. Readership is up, my teachers are actually pretty decent, and I've made a few friends to boot. The only problem now is this pesky serial killer. Over the last few months there have been quite a few unsolved murders, with a good portion of them being girls from this school. I sit at my office going over the clues once again, but my mind goes numb trying to crack this puzzle. God, I could use some coffee right about now. The door swings open and Lana strolls in holding two paper cups in her hands. She simply stands there and holds them up, tapping her foot. In less than a heartbeat, I'm off my chair, dashing appreciatively towards the delicious, warm, aromatic ambrosia.  
  
"Thanks Lana, you're a life-saver," I exclaim, snatching the sweet nectar from her hands.  
  
"Well Chloe, I figured you'd be here super early once again. Still working on those murders?"  
  
"Yeah, still no where. I almost wish the killer would strike again... jeez, that didn't come out right."  
  
Lana laughs, rounding the corner to her desk to work on her assignment. I must admit, I did not expect to get along with her at all, but it's hard not to. She has this sweet, bubbly personality that just sucks you in, you know? It doesn't hurt that she's light on the eyes either - whether you're male or female. I know she's not perfect, but she's pretty damn close. Makes me wonder why Clark hasn't hooked up with her yet. I've been watching them closely, trying to see if I could define their relationship, but I only get the vague sense that they long for each other but something is keeping them apart. The journalist in me needs to know why...  
  
"Lana, could I ask you a personal question?"  
  
"Sure, what did you want to know?"  
  
"What exactly is the deal with you and Clark?"  
  
She pauses, a pained look on her face. Her eyes roll up and her mouth encapsulates her lips as I see the gears in her head working to come up with something intelligible. She sighs.  
  
"Clark... Clark. It's very strange what I have with him... sometimes it seems like we're on the verge of breaking through that barrier, just one step away from something wonderful. But then the next thing you know, I'm painfully reminded that no matter what you think you know about Clark Kent, there's always something more under the surface that he's too afraid to tell you. Does that make any sense?"  
  
I'm surprised a bit by her openness, having only known me for two weeks. I raise my eyebrows, trying to digest her words as she looks on, gauging my reaction.  
  
"I guess it doesn't. Clark... Clark is very sweet, but infuriating at the same time. It's about honesty, Chloe. Clark keeps things from people, even the ones he loves. No matter how much I ever wanted to be with him, the one thing I look in a man is honesty and openness. It's pretty much over between us... over before anything ever began."  
  
For the first time since we've met, I see a frown on her face. I walk to her and place an arm on her shoulder sympathetically. She manages a feeble smile before suspicion flashes across her eyes.  
  
"Why are you asking? Are you interested in him?" she asks, eyebrows raised.  
  
I put on a dumbfounded look, feigning innocence at first, ready to deny the allegation. But she's looking at me with those big doe eyes. That and the truthful revelation she made just now clinch it for me. I can't help but confess the truth in turn. My demeanour shifts and I answer.  
  
"Maybe. Yeah, I do. There's just something about him..."  
  
"I know exactly what you mean. You're welcome to give it a shot if you want, don't let me hold you back. I just don't want you to see you get hurt," she says, getting back to work on her article.  
  
I weigh her words and expression carefully, but I don't detect any hint of malice or deceit. She's serious. Clark Kent, the sweetest heartbreaker I know. There definitely is more to Clark Kent than meets the eye - and I want to know what.  
  
*****  
  
Two more weeks have passed and I haven't asked him out yet - haven't mustered the courage. I find it difficult to read Clark sometimes though it could be I'm just taking too much stock in what Lana said. Until I can be sure I won't face tragic rejection which would result in my subsequent, messy suicide, I am content to watch from afar. And from afar, I mean two desks over in Algebra. He pervades my thoughts during every waking moment. Even when I'm working diligently on the paper, I sometimes stop to look across at him and muffle an internal sigh. My affections are oblivious to no one around me, save Clark of course, who though being quite intelligent is completely ignorant about the effect he has on the opposite sex (and a few of the same sex).  
  
As the hapless Mr. Hoffman drones on about substituting equations, I look over my serial killer file again. My guess is there is more than one killer. The unrelated murders of several different members of society, a lawyer, a garbage-man, a chef, and an accountant, I attribute to Smallville's 'background murders,' a term coined by my predecessor to describe the killings that seem to happened on a regular basis in this quaint little town.  
  
This other murderer was much more... efficient. Victims were all women, mostly from Smallville High, a few were from local colleges around the area who worked part-time in Smallville to pay for tuition. They had no other relation - some travelled in the same circles, some didn't. Some were rich, poor, popular, unpopular, etc. The killer never struck at the same time, the same place and his methods of execution were varied as well, with no favour for any particular one. He did however prefer to kill them quickly and without too much mess. A quick, blunt blow to the head, strangulation, drowning, and one was even buried alive.  
  
The bell rings and I hastily pack by books up and head directly for Mr. Kent himself.  
  
"Hey Clark, you got a minute?" I ask.  
  
"Sure, Chloe - what do you need?"  
  
"Are you busy tonight?"  
  
I must have said that a little too loud as half the class stops leaving and their heads turn toward us, Lana included, her eyes wide open. I pull Clark out the hallway to talk.  
  
"There's a rumour going around that the last victim's grave was disturbed last night. Want to go check it out with me?" I plead, trying to give him my puppy dog eyes.  
  
He opens his mouth briefly only to pause; I am well versed in the body language of rejection.  
  
"I'd love to Chloe, but my grandparents are coming to visit today. I can't get it out of it," he explains.  
  
"Oh. That's okay. I could just go by myself..." I muse.  
  
"No! Listen, I don't want you out there by yourself with a killer on the loose. Especially not at the cemetery in the middle of the night. I know how you are - promise me you won't."  
  
"Okay, fine, I promise I won't go out there by myself," I proclaim, slouching and placing my hand over my left breast. "Happy now?"  
  
"Good. Listen, I need to meet with Mr. Fischer. I'll see ya later, okay?"  
  
I sigh as he turns around and leaves, and bite my lip as he drops a book and bends over to recover it. Lana taps my shoulder and I stumble, a bit startled.  
  
"So I take it that didn't go well? He turned you down?"  
  
"Oh, no, it wasn't like that. I wasn't asking him out!" I declare.  
  
"It's okay Chloe, there are other fish in the sea," she says sympathetically.  
  
"No, I wasn't asking him out. Really! Hey - are you doing anything tonight?"  
  
Her eyebrows raise.  
  
*****  
  
In the dead of night we trod out to the cemetery on foot, flashlights in hand. It's not very cold out, but Lana shivers anyway. Clouds pass by the full moon making eerie shadows on the ground. A coyote howls in the background. I never knew there were coyotes in Kansas.  
  
"I can't believe you managed dragged me out here with you!" whispered Lana. "We're both going to end up dead!"  
  
"Relax Lana, we're big girls. And look I've got pepper-spray, right here!" I point to my purse.  
  
"Chloe, we're two teenage girls going to check out a graveyard in the middle of the night, armed only with pepper-spray, a couple of flashlights, and... are you sucking on a lollipop?" she asked incredulously. "We're doomed!"  
  
"Don't worry. If worse comes to worse, we can hit the killer in the head with our flashlights. Of course with our flashlights on, it'll be a cinch for the killer to find us if he was out here..." I trail off as we share a look and a sigh before turning the lights off.  
  
We walk down a winding dirt path which should lead us to the correct burial plot. It's not that creepy here at night - though I am glad I took Lana with me. Not only am I fulfilling my promise to Clark not to come out here alone, but she's good company. Plus she's been sheltered in this small town for far too long - she has to realize we can do anything we set our minds to, serial killer be damned. I think this will be a good liberating experience for her. It warms me just a bit to know that even though she's completely freaked out, she is still accompanying me anyway. Anything for a friend.  
  
Like everything in this town, even the cemetery is simple and charming. U- shaped gravestones, with a few choice words engraved on them - nothing fancy. Moss grows on some of the older ones, but for the most part it's pretty well maintained, with lots of bouquets from the land of the living. I hope we don't run into any of the cemetery staff, though it is doubtful given the size of this place.  
  
When we arrive at our destination, I turn the light on once again, searching for the gravestone of a Ms. Linda Lee Calder. I carefully step around the other graves as I pain-stakingly check each one. I stop in my tracks as I spot a pair in the corner. 'Lewis Lang' and 'Laura Lang.'  
  
"Lana?" I ask, turning around.  
  
She's gone. A panic flows through me and I scan the surrounding area for her.  
  
"Lana!" I shout once again with desperate concern.  
  
I hurry towards the base of a tree, spotting something on the ground. It's her purse and flashlight. I touch her bag briefly, noticing my hands are trembling. I back away and hit something hard. It's the tree. I sigh. I call her name out again, but there is no response. My gut tells me to run, but my mind tells me Lana is in trouble. A chill racks my body as I press myself against the trunk of the tree, looking nervously around me for any sign of Lana or anyone else. My heartbeat shoots through the roof, the loud thumping invading my ears and chest. For the first time in my life, I am petrified, too scared to move, to think even. I should have listened to Clark.  
  
Suddenly a black scarf is thrown around my neck and the tree, the ends pulled tightly towards each other. The unknown assailant groans from behind me as he cuts off my air supply. My hands shoot up, trying to wedge a gap between the fabric and my neck but to no avail. I flail my arms about as I gasp for breath, my vision turning blurred as I here a snap - the sound of cartilage breaking. My legs stop kicking and a cold tear rolls down my cheek. My last thought is of how I killed Lana Lang.  
  
*****  
  
I slam shut the front door, panting, my brow still covered in sweat. I just couldn't help myself this time. I sniffle a bit as I look down at my hands, still sore from the force I used to coax the life out of Chloe Sullivan. Four and a half weeks I went without killing a soul... that's a start I suppose. I can't keep doing this - I know. I will be found out eventually no matter how dim-witted the local police are. I know I need help, that I'm terribly ill, but it's not my fault you see.  
  
I love him more and more with every beat of my heart. Clark Kent drove me to it... his sweet smile, his incredible body, and his damn secrets. I wonder how horrible his secret is that he can't tell me. Is it as horrible as mine? I guess we're even in that department, Clark. I wish we could just be open to each other; I'm sick of pretending, sick of hiding my emotions from everyone, sick of the pain.  
  
A gentle snore emanates from Nell's still form as I pass by her open doorway. I envy her sometimes. Her life is so much less complicated than mine. I collapse onto my cold bed and cry myself to sleep as I have every night since that fateful encounter in the graveyard long ago. I'm so sorry, Chloe... so very sorry.  
  
***** 


End file.
